Stepford Too
by InSilva
Summary: One Rusty, trouble.  Two Rustys...  Oneshot.


Stepford Too by InSilva

Summary: One Rusty, trouble. Two Rustys… Oneshot.

A/N: this author's note is brought to you with a bit of a sulk for which I apologise. Mostly because I was going to say that this was what I _thought _she was writing (only of course you have to imagine the funny a whole lot funnier). And then when I started writing it, it all went a whole load more angsty and less funny than it was in my head. If it were in her nature to enjoy being right, she'd be preening. As it is in my nature to hate being wrong, I am sulking. ;)

A healthy dose of disbelief suspense is required.

Disclaimer: own nothing Oceany. Or anything Stepfordy.

* * *

Early evening and the Bellagio lobby was busy: honeymooners arriving, tourists passing through, staff going about their business. Danny ignored the lot of them. He moved through the crowd, the aura of fear and anger and determination and purpose melting people away like paper in a flame. He found Terry in the high-roller room, glad-handing the serious gamblers. Terry looked around as Danny appeared.

"We need to talk," Danny said.

"Well…"

"Now."

Terry stared at him curiously. Danny held the stare, his own eyes letting slip a little of the consequences if the request was denied. Terry nodded and led the way out of the room to the atrium.

"What is it, Ocean? I'm a busy man."

"Then I'll make this quick. Five days ago, Rusty went missing-"

"You lost track of your little partner in crime? And what? You think I might have a hand in this?"

Danny's eyes were dark and unblinking.

"Do you?"

Terry took his time to answer and Danny was three seconds away from getting arrested.

"I haven't laid eyes on him," Terry said eventually.

Danny stared long and hard at Terry's face. It was the truth.

"You really do have issues over Ryan, don't you?" Terry murmured. "What's the deal there? Something Tess ought to be worried about?"

"Don't even bother, Benedict." Danny was already leaving. Other stones to turn.

"What did he do? Forget your birthday or something?"

Danny stopped and turned back. "What did you say?"

"Well, that touched a nerve."

Danny opened his mouth to reply and then the words dropped away. Walking down the stairs behind Terry was Rusty and all the frantic searching and the worry evaporated in the immediate relief. Rusty was descending the staircase, grey suit, green and gold shirt, his usual elegance and grace flowing from him and Danny didn't know why he was there or what was going on but it was Rusty. That was all that mattered.

"Rus…"

Danny didn't care that Terry was there and witnessing. His smile was warm and genuine and lit up his face like the 4th of July. Rusty gave him a nod of casual acknowledgement and walked straight past him.

_Rusty…?_

Shocked and unable to hide it, Danny spun on his heel to see Rusty saunter up to Terry.

"Hi. Want to get a drink?"

Although his focus was on Rusty, Danny was taking in Benedict's reaction at the same time. Who needed a Greco Player Tracker? An eyebrow raised. A slight curve to the lips. Terry hadn't been kidding. This was the first time he'd seen Rusty recently. Terry's eyes slid over to Danny's.

"I'd love to," he replied.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Danny wasn't going to go as far as actually grabbing Rusty's arm and dragging him out of there for a little private conversation but he sure as hell wanted some explanation.

"Rusty? Can I have a word?"

Rusty looked at him and he was…he was Rusty but he was a closed book. Unreadable. Danny frowned.

"There's nothing you can't say in front of Terry," Rusty told him and the frown deepened.

_Rus…_

"Well? You're not usually short of words. Maybe when we robbed Macy's, that once…" Rusty shrugged.

_Alright, damn it_.

"Where have you been, Rusty? I've- we've been worried. Last we heard, you walked out of your hotel to visit that little patisserie on the corner and you never came back."

Rusty looked thoughtful. "Mendels."

"_What?"_

"The patisserie. Serves these brandy snaps that just melt…"

Rusty's eyes glazed over and his lips parted slightly. Long used to Rusty's love affair with food, Danny waved an impatient hand. Terry looked as though he wanted to blink hard. Or possibly was constipated. At some point, Danny was going to have to tell him that wasn't an attractive expression. In the meantime…

"Rusty, I've been trying to find you for the past-"

"Well, you found me now," Rusty interrupted. "And I'm fit, I'm well and you needn't worry." Rusty shot Terry a coquettish look up through his lashes that had Danny open-mouthed. "About that drink…"

Terry cleared his throat. "Why not? One hotel owner to another."

Danny had no idea what Rusty was playing at. And yes, he looked fit and well but that wouldn't stop Danny worrying. And as for the flirtatious subtext thing going on with Terry…what the-

"Rusty-" he tried again and reached out a hand.

Rusty stopped him before he made contact. "I'm with Terry now," he said and the words were delivered with finality.

Danny stood and watched them walk away from him and wondered what the hell was going on.

* * *

Terry wasn't sure that Ocean was following them but he thought it likely. The man wasn't going to let this go. Terry smiled to himself. Well, that was OK. Revenge wouldn't taste as sweet if it was over before it had started.

Ocean wouldn't get to where they were headed though. Not without another ten people behind him. Doors opened and closed, elevators operated, corridors were walked down, guards were nodded at and then vault doors were opened and Terry led the way to a little side room.

"Ah, Mr Benedict!"

Professor Levin looked delighted to see him. Terry wondered idly if the eagerness was a quality of all mad professors.

"Professor," he nodded. "I must compliment you. A faultless performance."

Levin stood in front of the monitors and equipment and beamed. "It's all down to your generous funding."

"Yes, I suppose it is. But still. Your genius…" Terry tailed off and stared at the man strapped in to the chair, wires running from his body and head, long leads that connected to the equipment. "Well, not forgetting your contribution, Ryan."

Ryan stared up at him with a hundred different profanities in his eyes.

Terry studied the Rusty Ryan standing next to him. "A perfect copy."

"Simulation," Levin corrected.

"Fucking joke!" Ryan muttered.

Terry tilted his head and smiled. "A fucking joke that defers to me. A fucking joke that _will_ obey me."

"Danny won't-"

"I think you saw what happened." Terry waved a lazy hand at the wall at the other end of the room which held a bank of monitors with security camera footage. "So convincing that _Danny," _he said the name as if it soiled his mouth, "is even now wondering what he's done to upset you. Isn't that so?"

Ryan glared back at him and said nothing.

"By the time I'm finished, Danny won't ever trust you again. No more schemes. No more dreams. No more robbing casinos or donating my money to charity. No more Ocean's Eleven. Because you're going to betray everything Danny tells you, every single thing he confides." Terry glanced at Levin. "Isn't that so, Professor?"

"Oh, most definitely." Levin was studying his handiwork with pride. "The memory and thought transfer connections are working beautifully. Aren't they, Rusty?"

The fake Ryan nodded.

"As sweet as the time we ran the Alphabet scam on Huggins and Moore," it agreed. "They didn't see that coming."

"Fascinating," Terry murmured. "I'm taking it back to my room and before you think to complete the smart little comment on your lips, Ryan, I can assure you it's all about a question and answer session."

He didn't need to look at Ryan to hear the _Fuck you._

* * *

Terry had left and Levin was bent over the machinery, adjusting dials and turning knobs and Rusty tried for the nth time to free himself from the wires and the chair.

Five days seemed an age ago. Kidnap and a van and he'd been seriously relieved when he'd glimpsed the back entrance of the Bellagio and heard Henchman Number One on the phone telling his boss that the package had arrived. Terry was behind this and Rusty could handle Terry. He prepared himself to be amused and annoying and the only nagging doubt he had was whether he was on his own here because really that seemed unlikely.

It was unlikely but true. And there was no Terry waiting with words of imagined menace that he could toss one-liners at. Instead, there was Levin and the machinery and the chair and the impossible. An android, perfectly sculpted, perfectly formed and anatomically correct. Rusty really didn't want to think about the detail work that had gone on here.

If there was a Bond villain role going begging, Levin would have walked it. Levin was mad. Rusty worked that out early on. Mad but brilliant and anxious to share his magnificence with his captive audience.

…_temperate synthetic flesh…fully functional...gel-covered eyes to give that lifelike glisten…real hair…_

Rusty had shuddered.

"This is my life's work," Levin had sighed happily. "And you're going to help me complete it."

Well, he wasn't. He so wasn't. Except that all he could offer was passive resistance because the straps were tight and so were the wires. He was fed and watered and that was nearly as humiliating as the fact that the chair doubled as a commode. Levin was solicitous in helping him use it and Rusty saw the gleam in Levin's eye that was nothing about the lascivious and all about the pride in correct attention to detail. Levin even shaved him every morning so that the fucking Doppelganger looked the same. And Rusty just hoped Terry gave Levin hell when he got the bill for the Armani. Matching outfits. _Fuck._

As for who would be looking for him... Well, Isabel _would_ normally be the first to notice, what with the fact that they were living together. But she was away on an undercover job with her father. Bonding. Making up for lost time. And this was the critical stage of operations and she wasn't going to be phoning home for a good week or so.

However. It was Danny's birthday in two days and when he missed it, Danny would start looking for him. Terry would be one of the places he looked. Rusty had spent his time glaring at the replica him. Replica him just looked amused. Was that _really_ his default expression?

There was no Terry. There was just the mad professor and the wires and replica him. Like the Tar Baby, replica him waited for Danny. And now, Danny had caught up with it. Rusty bit his lip. It was too late to hope that this was all a bad dream.

* * *

Terry left the fake Ryan sitting in an easy chair and headed for bed, a smile on his lips that refused to go away. He'd heard ridiculous tales of ingenuity and daring and downright stupidity. That job in Stockholm, for instance... The smile died away. Terry walked swiftly out to the living area. Fake Ryan was where he'd left it.

"That job in Stockholm."

"The Hagenblad Museum? What about it?"

Terry's teeth gritted. He supposed it had to sound like Ryan but that damned insouciant air...

"You really decoyed the guards with a-"

"Chihuahua. Yes."

Fake Ryan was serious and reassured that he hadn't just spent the past two hours being led a merry dance, Terry turned back towards the bedroom.

"Chihuahua was called Toodles," Fake Ryan called after him.

Terry exhaled slowly. He would have to speak to Levin in the morning about how sure he was that this memory thing worked.

* * *

Danny sat in the Bellagio bar and studied the glass of whisky. He hadn't drunk nearly enough. He'd lost Terry and Rusty as they'd headed back of house but he'd picked them up again as they'd entered the elevator that went to Terry's private rooms. The elevator had descended but Rusty hadn't. The briefest of images of Rusty and Terry together flashed through his brain and was enough to make him want to throw up all the whisky he'd drunk.

That wasn't happening. For a start, Rusty wasn't...and Terry wasn't... No. That wasn't happening. Which still begged the question what the hell was.

* * *

Fake Ryan was still sitting in the chair when Terry walked out of his room in the morning and that was (a) an eerie thing to wake up to and (b) reassuring. Terry wasn't completely convinced this thing didn't have a mind of its own.

"You will go out today and find Ocean," he instructed. "Ocean's going to have questions. You know what you have to do."

Fake Ryan gave a lazy nod. "Not give anything away, let him think there's a bigger gameplan I just can't share with him at the moment, run you down, keep him on his toes."

_Run him...?_

Fake Ryan shrugged. "Have to make it convincing."

"I guess." Terry's eyes narrowed then he shrugged it off. "Find out what he's got lined up next. Be back here at lunchtime. Wait!" he added as Fake Ryan stood up. "Have breakfast with me first. Tell me more about how you stole my money."

"You want me to order the food, Terry?"

"Yes." It made him feel in charge. Made him feel as if Ryan was his to command. "I'm going for a shower. Have the food delivered to the room."

Terry walked out of the shower, refreshed and full of ideas about how he was going to watch Ocean's world crumble as surely as his own had done on a fight night long ago. He stopped dead when he saw the food on the table.

"What the..."

There were pancakes and syrup and doughnuts and milkshake and bagels and bacon and chocolate spread and more carbohydrates than Terry had seen in a month.

"Breakfast," Terry breathed. "I said to order breakfast!"

Fake Ryan looked up from the pancakes, chocolate spread around its mouth. "I _did._"

Terry glared at him. "Breakfast is...breakfast is toast and juice and muesli if you must."

Fake Ryan shuddered. "That's bird food."

"That's what I eat!" Terry snarled, ignoring the way Fake Ryan's tongue was darting out to lick at the chocolate. "That's healthy!"

"Oh..." Fake Ryan waggled its head. "Well..." It looked at the food on the table and hesitantly held up the jar of jelly. "This has got fruit in it."

Terry snatched the jar and pushed a napkin into its hands. "Wipe your mouth and get out. Get out and find Ocean."

* * *

Rusty had phoned and told him where to be and Danny sat in the diner waiting. He needed answers badly and he was half-afraid that Rusty wouldn't show and half-afraid that he would and that the answers weren't going to be anything he wanted to hear. When Rusty walked through the door, Danny had to stop himself from leaping out of his seat: he wasn't sure if he wanted to hug him or throttle him.

"Hey," Rusty smiled at him as if it was any day of the week and he hadn't just spent the night in Terry Benedict's room. "You ordered?"

* * *

Terry was stopping himself from pacing with difficulty. He was nervous but he didn't want to demonstrate any kind of weakness in front of Ryan who was watching him with an icy blue stare and Levin who was tinkering with the machinery in an abstract fashion. Terry bit back on the desire to tell Levin to stop the absent-minded tutting that was accompanying every check but it was hard. He settled instead for sneering at Ryan.

"Right about now, your very best friend thinks he's having breakfast with you."

Silence. Glare.

"Right about now, your very best friend is busy being conned."

Silence. Glare.

"Right about now-"

"I should shut the fuck up right about now, Terry," Ryan snapped and Terry's mouth opened and closed and damn it, he was in charge here. He was the one calling the shots. Ryan was _helpless._ Ice blue suggested otherwise.

"You'll see," Terry promised, not even sure what he was promising.

* * *

Fake Ryan sauntered back into the Bellagio lobby with that authentic careless jauntiness that aggravated Terry no end.

"Terry," Fake Ryan smiled as it spotted him on the casino floor. "We must stop meeting like this."

Terry's jaw set. "Follow me."

In front of Levin and Ryan, he made it narrate its entire encounter with Ocean. Ocean had been concerned - _"Hurt?" Terry asked and was pleased to see the flicker of pain on Ryan's face when there was a thoughtful nod by way of answer._ Ocean had been concerned. He'd wanted to know what was going on and the questions had been many and had been deflected gently and insistently. Ocean obviously still didn't have a clue but then why would he?

"He really cares about me," Fake Ryan said softly.

"Yes, he does," Terry briskly agreed. "That's why this plan is going to work so well. Did he talk about what he's up to next?"

"No…" Fake Ryan rubbed its mouth contemplatively. "He was more about me. He was really worried."

Terry grunted with satisfaction.

"He didn't like the fact that I spent the night in your room," Fake Ryan went on, frowning.

"I bet he didn't."

Then its brow cleared. "But I told him nothing happened."

"What's the matter, Terry?" Ryan murmured. "Trouble getting it up?"

Fake Ryan laughed. It actually _laughed._

"Professor Levin-"

"Oh, Mr Benedict, it's such a _good _sign! It shows that the simulation is absorbing every last ounce of the donor personality."

That was enough to wipe the smirk off Ryan's face. Time to drive it further away.

"Next time you see Ocean, you don't have to be so accurate with the truth."

"But Danny will be able to tell," Fake Ryan said earnestly.

Fine. Terry walked up to the android and kissed it hard on the mouth. Its lips were unexpectedly warm and Terry silently congratulated Levin on his attention to detail. He pulled away and turned back to look at Ryan, whose own lips were tight.

"Then you be sure to tell him about that."

"I will," Fake Ryan nodded. "I will tell him you kissed me."

"Good."

"And that it was unpleasant."

_What?_ Terry's head snapped round.

"You're really not that great a kisser, Terry."

"You will tell him you enjoyed it!"

"But that would be…lying…" Fake Ryan looked like it was considering the option.

"Check your memory," Terry instructed shortly. "You'll find it's second nature."

"But Danny will be able to-"

"Enough! Come with me. I want you visible. I want Ocean to see you at my side."

He felt sure it would drive Ocean crazy. Ryan's eyes told him that he was right to feel that way.

* * *

Upstairs, and Fake Ryan was behaving nicely. Trailing after him, following him through the casino, eating lunch with him in the restaurant, at his shoulder and unmissable in that garish gold and green shirt. Wherever Ocean was watching from, whoever was there to witness this, it would disturb and puzzle and horrify.

After lunch, Terry headed to his office and left Fake Ryan sitting quietly in front of him as he himself ran through the daily paperwork at his desk. Once or twice he glanced up at the blue eyes and the calm expression and he smiled to himself. Rusty Ryan under control and doing what he was told. Every home should have one.

The evening and downstairs and Fake Ryan was still behaving itself beautifully. Terry was in a good mood. Briefed by Walsh, he strolled into the high-roller room and stood with Hikaru Sakamoto, conversing with him in careful Japanese. Sakamoto smiled and looked delighted at Terry's efforts to speak with him in his own language.

And that would have been that except that Fake Ryan suddenly joined in the conversation, its Japanese well-accented and fluent and Terry struggled to follow the gist of what it was saying. Something about a visit to Kyoto and one glass of sake too many and a haiku competition… Sakamoto was laughing so hard, tears were running down his cheeks.

Terry stood, teeth gritted, the smile plastered on his face and watched Fake Ryan laughing too. When he could, Terry made his farewells and took Fake Ryan by the elbow, leading it away.

"What was that about?" Terry demanded in a low voice, his face betraying nothing.

Fake Ryan looked as if it didn't quite know how to reply. In the end, it settled for, "It's a funny story. I thought he'd like to hear it."

Terry stared it in the eyes, searching for the truth and relaxed. Maybe that episode hadn't actually been about showing him up. Just that it was the sort of thing he could imagine the _real_ Ryan doing. He shook the thought from his mind.

"Alright. Ocean should have seen enough. Get in touch with him again and ask him to meet you for dinner."

* * *

According to Fake Ryan, dinner had gone as well as Terry could have hoped. Ocean was still shaken. Still confused. Good. He liked Ocean off-guard, not knowing whether he could trust the man he trusted more than any other.

He made sure that Ryan listened to the account as well. He'd been looking at Ryan throughout and Ryan hadn't been able to hide the tension and the misery in his face. This was _golddust. _Ryan caught sight of the satisfaction in his face.

"Go fuck yourself, Terry," he spat.

Terry smiled. "Not possible. You, on the other hand…" He mused and pretended he didn't see the sudden tightness in Ryan's face. "You know, a peacock like you, Ryan, that would be a dream come true, wouldn't it?"

Not waiting for an answer, he summoned Fake Ryan and retired to his suite.

More outrageous stories of heists and cons and scams and Terry sat, slightly dazed by it all. Did Ocean and Ryan really live like this? And most of the time, they were successful. That seemed the unlikeliest thing of all. In fact, near-deaths aside, the only serious hiccup in their working life appeared to be…

"Tell me about when Ocean went inside."

Fake Ryan said nothing and Terry repeated the question. This time it sighed and looked down at its fingernails.

"I don't want to talk about it."

Terry looked at it incredulously. "Well, _I _want you to. Talk."

Unwillingly, it started speaking, still not making eye contact with Terry. "It was one of the worst times of my life," it whispered. "I didn't know where I stood with Danny. I didn't know whether we were talking properly. He told me to stay away from him and I wasn't sure if that was for my protection or because he didn't want to see me. It was like he'd died…"

It blinked hard and Terry savoured the moment of vulnerability. Ocean and Ryan, apart and miserable. His musing was interrupted.

"But then he got out and came and found me and we robbed you and everything was alright again."

It smiled brightly at Terry and Terry's lip curled. That really depended on your definition of alright.

"I'm going to bed," he declared. "Sit and amuse yourself."

* * *

Morning came and Terry walked out to see Fake Ryan had found a pack of cards from somewhere and was sat dealing face up, poker hands for five players. Card after card fell effortlessly and in orderly fashion and there was an inhuman perfection in the dealing, an exquisite, faultless display of automation. Impressive.

"What are you waiting for?" Terry interrupted. "Go and see Ocean. Find out what he's up to."

* * *

Apart from the annoyance of a fire alarm that emptied the hotel – not the vault; he didn't care if Ryan burned down there – the day had been another good one.

Ocean was apparently still anxious but accepting. Bewildered but buying it. Going along with the idea that Rusty was playing Terry in some complicated fashion that he couldn't share at the moment.

His phone rang on his way back to his suite and it was Walsh, confirming that the fire alarms had been reset successfully.

"Fire alarm," Terry muttered as he hung up the phone. "What the hell was that about today?"

"Distraction," Fake Ryan said promptly. "Probably to plant a camera."

"A camera?"

"In your suite."

Terry stopped and stared at him. That was…oh, that was entirely… He opened the door to his quarters and ushered Fake Ryan inside.

"Where?" he asked in a low voice.

Fake Ryan looked round at the easy chair and the couch and the TV and the shelves. He walked up to the shelves and smiled.

* * *

Rusty smiled into the camera and Danny tensed.

"He's found it," Livingston said unnecessarily, shuffling in his seat.

"Yeah." Of course. Of course.

And he'd pointed it out to Terry who was taking up position in the easy chair, settling himself down, staring at the camera with that little victorious smile on his face.

Rusty disappeared out of view and then reappeared with a drink that he handed to Terry. There was some sort of conversation and then Rusty was… Danny swallowed. Rusty was helping Terry out of his jacket and massaging his shoulders and Terry was raising the glass of whisky to the camera and _toasting _him and Terry's eyes were half-closed in bliss and Danny's hands were clenched.

Then the unbelievable became the unthinkable. Rusty moved round in front of the chair and dropped to his knees in between Terry's legs and the angle was such that nothing could actually be seen but actually imagination never needed to be able to see.

"Danny?"

Livingston. Incredulous and frightened and Danny knew how he felt because the world obeyed certain rules. Oh, the rules may be illogical and irrational and ridiculous but the world obeyed them.

And Rusty performing any kind of sex act with Terry Benedict was not part of that world.

* * *

"Alright. Get up now," Terry instructed.

Fake Ryan obeyed.

"Walk straight into the bedroom without looking back."

Terry stood up and smiled a triumphant goodnight at the camera and then followed Fake Ryan and closed the door behind them.

"Sit in that chair," Terry told it.

"Terry, I think you should know-"

"You don't talk. You don't say a word."

"But I just wanted to-"

"Levin may have built you to be as close to the original as possible but I don't want to hear the wisecracks from you anymore than I do the real Ryan, understand?"

Silence suggested it did. Terry undressed, got into bed and hit the lights. Nothing had happened out there. He shuddered. Like he was going to go through with something like that. Ocean thought something had happened though. Ocean thought something was going on right now.

"Tomorrow, you will tell Ocean I fucked you."

Silence. Terry sighed.

"You may speak."

"But Danny can-"

"Enough! I've told you before, you lie to him!"

Silence.

"Alright." Low and reluctant and Terry closed his eyes and smiled. He almost didn't catch the follow up. "And I will tell him you are not a good lover."

"_What?" _The lights were back on in an instant.

"You are not good at kissing. It's a logical conclusion."

It was serious and Terry was speechless.

"Oh…" Fake Ryan looked thoughtful. "You want me to lie again?"

"I want you to sit there and shut up."

He snapped off the lights again.

"I don't like Danny being unhappy," Fake Ryan announced suddenly to the darkness.

Terry gritted his teeth. "_I _don't have a problem."

He turned over on his side and went to sleep in a bad mood.

* * *

Sounds of a skirmish outside the bedroom woke him. Terry pulled his silk dressing-gown round himself and flung open the door.

Security had Ocean. The man looked wild-eyed as if he really hadn't been sleeping well. Or at all.

"It's…" Terry checked his watch. "Two in the morning. A little late for a social call. A little early for breakfast."

Ocean glared at him and it was the same kind of glare that belonged to Ryan. Fierce and uncompromising and meaning business even when the odds would suggest otherwise.

"You wanted to see for yourself?" Terry turned his head and called over his shoulder. "Come out here. We've got a visitor."

Fake Ryan appeared and damn it if it didn't look pleased to see Ocean. Its eyes lit up and there was an immediate half-smile on its lips.

"Danny," it said happily.

Ocean's eyes were all over it. Checking for damage, no doubt. Then, he stared at it and seemed to be searching for something that he just couldn't find. When he spoke, it was low and quick and heartfelt.

"Rusty, I don't know what he's holding over you but walk away from this. Whatever it is, we'll find an answer. You don't have to do this. You don't have to be here. Rusty, _please._"

There was desperation in there. Terry loved the sound of it.

"Tell Ocean-"

"He can tell me himself!" Ocean snapped. "Rusty…"

Haltingly, Fake Ryan wandered over and stood in front of Ocean and Terry held his breath. Fake Ryan's fingers ran down Ocean's cheek in a tender gesture. And then Fake Ryan stepped backwards.

"You should go now, Danny. And don't worry about me."

"Back in the bedroom," Terry ordered and Fake Ryan disappeared. Terry smiled at Ocean who looked every shade of upset. "Rusty will come and play with you again tomorrow."

"I'm warning you-"

"Now get out!"

Terry watched with savage delight as security firmly removed him. That was what he wanted. That was what he'd _dreamed _of…

…he yawned and opened his eyes in the early morning light. Oh. That _was_ what he'd dreamed of. He rolled over on his side and saw Fake Ryan sitting and staring at him, exactly where he'd left him.

"Get out. Go find Ocean," he instructed.

He himself had plans for breakfast.

* * *

Sharing everything that hadn't happened and that had happened with the real Ryan was a priceless moment. The man looked like he was going to be sick and for once, the clever little comebacks were noticeable by their absence. Terry revelled in the feeling of power. Levin had cost him a considerable amount but this made it all worthwhile.

"Mr Benedict?" Levin sounded ingratiating. "Can I have a word?"

Mmm. And the word was undoubtedly money.

* * *

Rusty watched the private little conversation happening over at one side of the room and tried to keep a lock on the frustration and the fury. Terry was getting off on every last drop of control and he wasn't going to give him any more satisfaction than he had to.

The plan was crazy. Not just the sci-fi horror madness. The fact that Danny would ever, ever think that he would sleep with Terry. Let Terry kiss and fuck him. Submit to Terry. Danny would never...

_"Found this little camera in my room. You and I put on an excellent show."_

Danny. Danny would see. Danny would think... And when the moment came for whatever masterstroke Terry thought he had planned, when he "betrayed" Danny... How would Danny ever believe him when he said it wasn't him? When Danny had the evidence of his own eyes?

He bit down on the whimper and the snarl and tasted blood.

* * *

Fake Ryan came back into the Bellagio at lunchtime with an unfathomable expression. Terry hastened it down to the vault. Ryan needed to hear this.

"So what did Ocean say?"

It seemed that Ocean had reluctantly decided to accept that Rusty was not being held against his will. That Terry and Rusty had some sort of relationship that defied definition and description.

Fake Ryan was standing, leaning back against a wall, elbows crossed, silently watching its real-life twin's face. Terry wondered if it read all the pain that he read.

_It's not real,_ he told himself sternly. It was a shell filled with wires. Intuition was beyond it.

"You wishing yet that you and Ocean hadn't taken me on?"

"Wishing we'd stuck you for more than 160 million," Ryan said hoarsely.

Terry's smile was wide and Fake Ryan's next words made the smile even wider.

"Danny's talking about a con." It was watching Ryan. "A Lookie-Loo."

Terry had no idea what that was but it sounded authentic and judging by the way Ryan's eyes were suddenly wide-open and focused, it _was _something Ocean might try.

"The mark's right here in Vegas," Fake Ryan continued and that suited Terry no end. Local police were very co-operative. Terry looked forward to Ocean going back to prison, in full knowledge that it was Ryan who was responsible for Ocean's re-incarceration. Almost a pity that Terry couldn't let him know it was actually down to him but the look in Ocean's eyes would be worth it.

He started to ask when the con was going to happen but before he could do so, his phone rang.

"Mr Benedict?" Walsh. Nervous and not in a good way. "You need to look at your screens down there."

His screens…?

He strode down to the far wall and was half-conscious of the fact that Levin was at his shoulder. Together, they stared at the monitors. Sprinklers were going off. Systematically. Just for a split second. Terry's eyes were tracking them, one screen to the next. The lobby, the slots, the atrium, the high-rollers room… Guests scattering, guests silently laughing and squealing…

"You seeing this, Mr Benedict?"

"Yes, I'm seeing this," Terry growled. "What's the…wait a minute…"

His eyes followed the water. This _had_ to be more than a malfunction… There was some sort of pattern here…some sort of…

"You got a leaky roof, Terry? Those can be a real problem."

Ryan. The snarl rose up in Terry's face. He span on his heel and glared at the man.

"Oh, I'm not the one with the problem!"

"Mr Benedict?"

Walsh again.

"What is it?" Terry snapped.

"The water's stopped," Levin said at the same time as Walsh and Terry's attention was back on the screens.

The water had stopped.

"Find out what happened," Terry ordered, frowning and hung up.

"Just a glitch," Levin smiled.

He didn't believe in glitches but Walsh would take care of it. Terry hesitated for a moment, his instincts as a hotel-owner alive. The guests looked startled but not angry. It was a talking point. The Bellagio where it rained indoors. He nodded to himself. No such thing as bad publicity. His attention switched back to more pressing matters.

"You're with me," Terry told Fake Ryan.

* * *

Terry had plans for the afternoon.

"I've got guests," he said tersely as he opened the door of the private room where the group of whales were ensconced. "You're going to be the star turn."

"You don't want me to tap dance, do you?" Fake Ryan murmured, edging past him.

Terry's brows drew down. He really was going to have to speak to Levin.

"I want you to sit and play poker like a good little conman," he muttered. "You're the best, right?"

"You want me to-"

"Oh, yes. And they'll remember who cheated them. You and Ocean are never going to work in this town again."

Fake Ryan's face had that damn inscrutable look that reminded him of the real thing. Terry kept telling himself that was good.

"Rusty!"

"Denny." Fake Ryan smiled, striding up to the cardtable. "Good to see you again."

* * *

Fake Ryan was dealing. Cards danced. Blurred. Dazzled. Terry smiled to himself and looked round at the five high-rollers. They all knew Ryan and Ocean. After this, their reputation would be shot.

Except…

The game wasn't unfolding quite as Terry had thought it would. Hand after hand after hand and no one was losing much apart from…

Terry waited till Fake Ryan stood up to refill his glass of whisky and then casually, he stood up and joined him.

"Something wrong with your memory?"

Fake Ryan laughed. Actually, _laughed. _He stared at it and its face grew solemn.

"Sorry, Terry. I thought that was a joke."

"You're supposed to be fleecing them. Not _me_."

"Sorry, Terry." Contrite. (_Truly _contrite?) "I'll do better."

"Everything OK, Rusty?" Denny Shields again and Terry wanted to growl at him for interrupting.

"Everything's fine, Denny." Fake Ryan sipped his whisky and walked back to the cards with that infuriating swagger. "I am very happy and satisfied. Terry is a wonderful lover."

Time hung.

Colour drained from Terry's face and he stared in horror at Fake Ryan as it sat serenely shuffling cards. He was aware of the five other men staring at Ryan, at each other and then at him.

"He's joking," Terry said hoarsely.

"He's very tender and generous-"

"It's a lie!"

"And so _inventive-"_

"Shut the fuck up!"

"I mean for an older man, he's so _supple_-"

"I said shut up!"

"Terry…?" Denny Shields was wide-eyed and disbelieving and bursting with laughter.

"He's a robot!" Terry snarled. "He's a fucking robot!"

"He's…" The laughter had disappeared in favour of all-out disbelief. "_What?"_

* * *

Terry was ready to explode. All five whales had sat as he'd tried to explain and then decided not to explain and then decided that tight-lipped silence was the best policy. Fake Ryan had sat with an innocent expression on its face throughout. There had been numerous questions flung at it but Terry had forbidden it to say anything else.

"Party's over," Terry declared at last and flung the door to the private room open.

One by one, the gamblers trailed out.

"Thanks for the game, Terry." Denny was the last to leave. "It was truly memorable."

Terry strode back across the room and planted his fists on the table. Fake Ryan looked up at him expectantly.

"You just earned yourself a major reprogramming," he told it and the fury was flashing through the self-control. "On your feet."

However, no sooner had he left the room with Fake Ryan dutifully following, than Walsh was stood in front of him with a face that Terry had only seen once before. And that night, he'd ended up considerably poorer and minus a girlfriend.

"What?" he demanded.

"The vault," Walsh said, low and earnest.

The vault was impregnable. No, truly, it was. After the last time, he'd taken precautions.

"Nothing and no one can get into the damn vault," he declared.

"You'd better come and see," Walsh said tightly.

* * *

Terry stood in the security room and the security men in front of the cameras stuttered out again the sequence of actions. The cameras had gone down. When they'd come up again, there had been fluttering banknotes and guards who were unconscious and bound and Terry felt a little faint. Not again. Not twice in a lifetime.

"Get someone down there at once!" he barked at Walsh.

"Yes, Mr Benedict-"

"Forget it. I'll go myself."

He marched out of the room and pretended not to notice Walsh hastily sending men with him. If this was Ocean again, he would kill him. No matter what promises he might have made in the past, he would kill him. He would hang him out to dry. He would take him out to the middle of the Nevada desert and he would put cold steel against the man's temple and pull the trigger himself. He would make sure Ocean was dead. He would...

Ocean. Ryan. Terry stopped and the heavy security men ran into the back of him. He glared at them as they made their apologies and then he frowned, looking for the vile green and gold shirt. It was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

Rusty restrained himself as long as he could but Danny was staring at him like he'd thought he would never see him again. And OK, Rusty related to that particular feeling. There had been moments in their long association when he'd got Danny back against the odds and he'd locked them both away into that moment of two but this was different.

"This is different," he said at last.

"How?" Danny said and the tightness in his voice made Rusty grimace.

"I'm not hurt. I was just...inconvenienced. It wasn't all that."

Danny stared at him again.

"OK," Rusty conceded. "Maybe it was a _little_ all that."

"Terry-"

He cut across the anger and the threat. "Terry is currently the subject of gossipfire. Vegas thinks he built himself a robot that looks like me to have sex with."

"It's not enough."

"It is for now," Rusty suggested and saw the flame die down to a simmer in Danny.

_For now._

Danny leant across and unexpectedly kissed him on the lips. Rusty raised an eyebrow.

"What...?"

"Uma."

"Oh. _Oh. _And?"

"It's you, alright."

"Yes, it is." Rusty grinned. "When did you work it out?"

"Well, seeing you in the same outfit all the time was disconcerting. But when we placed a camera in Terry's suite-"

Rusty winced and Danny grimaced in sympathy.

"-we also bugged Terry's bedroom. It was very enlightening. And then the other you-"

"-Uma-"

"Uma was almost relieved when I said I knew what was going on. After that, a distraction so you could swap places and..."

"...yeah."

Freedom. Never to be underrated.

"And what about Uma?" Rusty asked.

* * *

Down in the vault, Terry found woozy guards and certainly most of his money but he was minus one mad scientist and minus one Ryan. Of whatever variety. He was willing to slice through flesh synthetic or otherwise to find out the truth. It _had _to have been the fake upstairs. _Had_ to. Except that somewhere at the back of his mind, there was that little alarm bell ringing. The same little alarm bell that had finally tipped him off to the detail about the vault floor that night when he'd lost everything.

He stood in the now empty little sideroom and called Walsh.

"Call up the footage of the sprinkler malfunction this afternoon."

There was a few seconds' delay and then the cameras rolled. Terry twisted his head to one side and watched. His mouth set in a tight little line. The fucking _fountains?_

* * *

Danny's phone rang.

"Hello, Danny."

_Uma,_ he mouthed and Rusty nodded.

"Hi. We were just wondering where you'd got to."

"Professor Levin and I are leaving Vegas. I explained to the professor that Terry would not be happy with me and therefore would not be happy with him and that really, it was best-"

"-to avoid an unhappy Terry. Yeah."

"I'm sorry, Danny." Uma sounded sincerely regretful. "I never meant to...I'm truly sorry."

Danny frowned. Even though Rusty was stood in front of him, the voice at the other end of the phone _sounded _like Rusty and it sounded like Rusty felt he needed to apologise and that...that wasn't right. "It's OK. Wasn't your idea."

"Thank you." Heartfelt and again the gratitude at the absolution was wrong. Not _ever_ what they were about... His eyes widened slightly. "Where are you?"

"I've borrowed Terry's private jet." The voice was calm and serene. "The professor and I are going on a short flight. Emphasis on the short."

"Wait-"

"It's been good to know you, Danny. There's only one Danny Ocean."

"Wait!" he said again but the line went dead.

"What was that all about?" Rusty asked.

Danny stared at the phone and sighed.

"Only one Rusty Ryan," he said heavily.

Rusty's eyes widened. "Uma...?"

"Yeah."

"Wow. Didn't know I was so damn heroic."

Danny's lips twitched. "You want me to tell you over drinks?"

"Bath," Rusty corrected. "Tell me over bath. With drinks. And with food. Isabel's in phone reach tomorrow and I want to sound like me when I speak to her."

"You're gonna tell her, right?"

Rusty looked at him levelly. "I tell her that Terry kidnapped me and held me hostage for a week and she'll been down here so fast...oh. _Oh. _You have a mean streak in you, Daniel."

Danny nodded. "Do where Terry's concerned. Can I be there when you tell her?" he added hopefully.

Rusty grinned and Danny smiled. He was going to take that as a yes.


End file.
